Just A Game
by EmaniaHilel
Summary: Changed Title. Used to be 'Feeling Love'. Written for Livejournal's 30Lemon community. Up: Theme 3 - The Closet. Lemons mean sex, so no younguns, k?
1. Audience

**Disclaimer:** Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em, and all is right with the world.

**A/N:** This is my first entry for the **30 Lemon** Community on Livejournal. As the title of the community implies, there will be 30 of them. I posted this through livejournal about a month ago. I'm working on the next entry. But here's this one.

I could use all the feedback on this one I can get, folks. ((looks around shyly)) This is...well...((blushes))...this is my first time, you know. My first full out lemon. I've skirted around the issue before a couple times, but I have never taken it to this depth of development, so like I said, I could use as much feedback as possible.

_**Feeling Love  
Chapter 1: Touch Me  
**__**by Emania  
**__**Theme # 2: The Audience**_

"_Touch me/ remind me who I am."  
_- Touch Me, Stanley Kunitz

"Go on, out with it."

Raven didn't look at him, she didn't even seem to be breathing. It appeared, for all intents and purposes, as if she were trying to still herself into not being there. "You are a lot sicker than I gave you credit for," she answered monotonously as if she were saying nothing more than that it was Tuesday.

He chuckled, but under his breath and just loud enough for Raven, sitting right next to him, to hear. "Well, you did lose the bet, didn't you?" he reminded her, glancing momentarily at where her sight was fixed.

"And I'm here...now leave me alone so that I can get through with this and forget it."

Robin tsked teasingly. "I never would have pegged you for being so ultra-sensitive."

She scoffed, but didn't look at him.

"Okay, so not sensitive..." he pretended to think about it, "...prudish, maybe?"

She _almost_ looked at him, he could tell, there was that instinctual shift before her head would have turned to glare at him, but she caught herself just in time and didn't move more than that half an inch.

"Not prudish, okay..." Robin allowed, drawing nearer to her in order to be able to lower his voice and still be heard...his concession to the approach of a new couple in the aisle in front of them.

Although Raven didn't look away the spot she had been staring at for the past ten minutes, she did acknowledge the arrival of the new couple who although they had seated themselves at a discreet distance from them were still somewhat close: she squirmed...just slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice in the near darkness, but enough for him, so close to her, to realize.

He knew that he was close...so very close to getting that reaction from her that he had anticipated since coming up with the bet in the first place. All he had to do was push her over. Too hard, however, and she would get up and leave, bet and honor or no bet and honor. "You are staring rather intently," Robin whispered, so close to her ear he could feel the warmth from off her skin, "Maybe you're looking forward to it?"

He saw it as she swallowed and grinned, knowing that she was trying to think of what to reply. He knew he had been right about this.

"Who would've guessed you were such a pervert?" she asked, also on a whisper.

He chuckled again, inhaling the scent of her. If nothing else, he thought, at least he would have the memory of this. He could hear it in her voice, however...there was a small part of her that was enjoying this. And even if she never wanted to do it again, she would certainly never forget it. "I'm only trying to educate you, Raven," he whispered, watching as her skin reacted to the warmth of his breath.

"Hah," she murmured. "Educate me?" she asked, leaning a little closer...maybe subconsciously.

"Mm," he answered in the affirmative. He was so close now, he could lean just that last bit and touch her, but that was part of the game...the rules she had set out and how far he could push her while still following them..."You said you'd never been to one of these, right?"

"I've also never been bitten by a snake," she answered, "Would you like to educate me in that as well?"

She was looking at him out of the corner of her eyes now, and she was very aware of his nearness, her skin betraying her nonchalance. "There's no poison here," he answered certainly. "Just a little forbidden fruit."

She had been so involved in their conversation that even though she was still staring forward, she had jumped, just a little, when the screen came to life.

"You'll see it's not so bad..." he told her, his voice still clear and almost soothing even despite the sound of the opening credits. "It's actually kind of funny sometimes..."

She exhaled, "It's not the movie that worries me," she replied, her voice so low and her lips barely moving.

"No?" he asked, clearly disbelievingly.

Finally, her eyes moved, piercing the semi-darkness, roaming over the indiscernible blobs of shadow in the rows of shadow as if she could see them despite the darkness, "It's the audience."

"I'll protect you," he vowed seriously.

She finally did turn to him, not having to turn even three fourths of the way to look at him since he was so close to her and in her eyes there was endless depths of shadow too, "You?" she asked, meeting his eyes, "You're part of the problem."

His reply was cut off by the staccato vocalization of the actress on the screen and his eyes, like hers, momentarily drifted to it. But then she moved, another movement that had anyone else performed it might have been termed a squirming, but with Raven could be nothing more base than a shifting.

The images on the screen did nothing for him...they never had...he could see through the falsity of it and had never been excited by it, but ever since the conversation had almost innocently come up between them during a chess game and she had admitted to never having seen one of these movies, the idea had formed and refused to leave him.

How would Raven-the so called Ice Queen-react to watching a 'dirty' film?

He had never really thought that the movie itself would turn her on, but he had allowed himself to consider the possibility that maybe watching it with him might _stimulate _her in some way. It had even occurred to him that perhaps the watching it in public would trigger some other aspect of her pent up sexual appetites, but he had failed to consider that what the other members of the audience were doing might have some effect on her as well.

He watched as her head remained fixed forward, but her eyes, even in the semi-darkness, he could see her eyes flitter from the screen to the undulating dark masses around them. It was too dark to be able to see clearly what any of the couples were doing, even the couple closest to them: the late comers, but he was certain that the sounds and the visuals of the movie itself were enough to fuel her imagination into what they _might_ be doing.

Her breathing hitched just a little and she seemed more uncomfortable, less able to sit still.

"What's the matter, Raven?" he asked innocently, so close his lips brushed, ghostlike, against her skin.

She shifted a little again and winced almost imperceptibly at something only she could feel but he could damn well guess at. "Nothing," she answered, her voice tight.

He reached a hand to her and her eyes closed as if she were expecting him to strike her. He froze inches from her arm and she exhaled, as if she had stopped breathing for a few moments. She was rigid, pressed against the back of the chair, her muscles tight and her hands clutching at the arm of the chair so tightly he was sure if he could see them in the dark, her knuckles would be white.

Moaning and breathless cries came from the screen, echoing in the surprisingly excellent sound system around them and Raven inhaled sharply, opening her eyes as if she had seen something that shocked her even through her closed eyes. "Don't touch me," she said, her voice breathless and almost pleading, scared.

The sound of it nearly undid him. What was she afraid of? It looked as if she were fighting off some internal demons and he couldn't believe that she was so afraid of feeling turned on that she would fight it so much that it looked as if she were actually in pain.

"Why are you so afraid?" he whispered, his breath warming the inside of her ear and her eyes closed again, tightly, as if she were in pain. Something wasn't right, he realized, she wasn't reacting the way he thought she would.

Her breath came in short gasps, as if she were finding it hard to breathe and although he was worried, the sight of her, fighting for control, small beads of sweat forming on her brow, her lips red, slightly wet, and swollen from where she had been biting down on them brought other thoughts to him. She looked as if she were in the throws of passion. Logically, it didn't make sense. "Raven," he whispered and she reacted to his voice as if he had touched some intimate part of her and seeing it, he had to swallow hard before he could continue, "Is something bringing you pain?"

"Yes," she gasped.

He reached out for her and Raven's eyes shot open and stared at him. There, in her eyes, was a look that utterly confused him: there was fear there, the kind of fear he had seen in her eyes only when she lost control of her powers because of the dark magic Malchior had taught her and she had almost killed the little girl inside Cardiac, but what was even more confusing was that unmistakably, there was pleasure in her eyes too. They were unfocused, but they saw him. They were frightened, but they wanted release.

He reached out a hand, uncertain, wanting to comfort or ease her pain, but not knowing how, but he didn't touch her...he couldn't. That had been her rule. And he had to abide by it unless and until she gave the okay to break it.

She closed her eyes and gasped, her breath ragged, but it wasn't until she let slip a moan at the same time as their closest neighbor did that he finally, _finally_, understood.

He neared her, "Raven," he spoke but his voice made her react as if he had touched her and although he was worried for her, sorry he had put her in such a position, he couldn't help but feel his pulse hitch in response. He had never thought to see Raven in such a state and he hated that part of him was glad to watch her..._very_ glad.

"What can I do?" he spoke again, whispered against her ear. "Raven?"

At the sound of her name, her voice broke on a barely withheld, "Ah," and she looked as if she were in such pain that he thought of picking her up and carrying her out, but before he could move or form the requisite intent to begin to move, she reached out and clenched his wrist.

The moment their flesh touched, she cried out, her voice drowned out by the sound system of the theater as the woman in the movie seemed to echo her. The wave of pleasure washed over him like a flood, pushing him to the brink of his control and nearly drowning him. He gasped as the pure pleasure ebbed and he could think, could hear, was present again, but her hand on his wrist was hot as if it would burn, and yet he wouldn't even consider pulling away.

"Robin..." she gasped, her nails digging into his flesh, "I can't hold it off much longer..." she spoke between gasps, "Fight me..."

He realized, somewhere in the small part of his brain that was still functioning, that she had used considerable force of will to block him from the feelings, that she was asking him to help her control them, but he suddenly didn't want to. "No," he replied, breathless.

She inhaled as if she had been lacking air. "Please..." and there were tears in her voice.

He could feel the emotions leaking off her like fog through a crack in the door, he could feel the embarrassment and the fear, but he could also feel the pleasure. The need. And he wouldn't deny her.

"Let me in," he told her. "Share it with me," he whispered in her ear. "Give in to it."

She shook her head and closed her eyes, "No," she was almost crying now, "No..."

He could feel her fighting with herself and it was painful. He knew that the only way to get over the pain was to ride the pleasure, and he knew it because _she _knew it, and although he understood why she was fighting it, he couldn't stand to see her go through it. He wanted her to know that he wanted to help her. He wanted her to know that she shouldn't feel as if he wasn't under control, as if he weren't himself when asking her what he could do. He wanted her to know that he wanted her. He leaned close to her, inhaling deeply of her scent which seemed to only be amplified somehow. She smelled of vanilla and lavender, and sex. That heady, musky scent that could be so many different things and yet only one. "I _want_ to help you, Raven," he told her, his voice tight.

Somewhere a few rows below them, soft panting and moaning could be heard, echoing the much more vocal cries on the screen and Raven flinched as if she'd been hit, her head falling back as if it were too heavy for her to hold anymore. Robin could feel the faintest edge of the pleasure she was fighting off, and it was driving him insane. Her chest was heaving, her pert breasts straining against the t-shirt she was wearing, bringing the hard little nubs in their center into sharp focus. She arched her back and her nipples were so close all he had to do was shift the smallest amount and he would be touching them. But that was against the rules and he didn't want to do anything that she would regret later, so he bit down onto his lip and clutched onto the armrest, her hand tightening around his wrist and tried to stop himself from getting any more aroused.

"Let me help you, Raven..." he whispered close to her, "Let me touch you."

Raven for her part, felt as if she were awash in a flood of pleasure, out of control and unable to hold on to any of it enough to bring herself relief. She could feel the waves of pleasure coming off the people surrounding her as if she were feeling it herself; this ones hands on her breast, that one's silky smoothness against her lips, and the warm wetness at her most intimate of places and all at once. It was torture. The movie itself did nothing for her, but the reaction of so many people around her feeling and needing and wanting and with absolutely no restraint on their emotions had torn down her walls as if they were made of paper.

She tried to push it back, tried to ignore the sensations the other people around her were feeling, but it was like trying to push back a tsunami. And Robin...Robin's feelings came to her in the undercurrent, ebbing and flowing around her like a lapping tide. He was so ready. He wanted so much. He wanted her. And yet he was trying to hold back. She wouldn't stop him no matter what he did at this point, so long as it brought her relief...with so many different people in different states of arousal, she couldn't find satisfaction. It was like constantly reaching the brink, only to be pulled back before glorious release to start it all over again.

She was going insane.

"Raven..." Robin's voice in her ear, Robin's promise of release. And she knew that they would probably regret it later, knew that he was feeling the backwash of her own emotions, knew they would be lucky if their friendship could survive this, but she knew too that only the real touch of someone else's skin against her skin would be enough to help her focus...only Robin could bring her release now and she was in a state where she didn't care what other consequences that might bring.

"Yes..." she breathed. "Please..." she whispered.

"Please what?" he pressed, "You have to say it, Raven."

Her eyes opened and immediately locked on his, "Touch me."

He didn't need another invitation.

_xxxxxxx_

**A/N**: **From this point on, the heat factor kinda grows more...um...heated. So, I'm linking you to where you can find the remaining 4 pages of this one-shot. So...go here to find it, k?**

**http(:) (/)(/) community . livejournal . com / 30 (underscore) lemons / 135710 . html (REMOVE THE SPACES AND THE PARANTHESIS!)**


	2. Mile High Club

**Disclaimer:** I'm posting this one in its entirety. I don't think it's as descriptively lemony as the first one was, so I'm chancing it. BUT, it is definitely a high M rating, so people, be warned. I won't police you, but if you're young, fer cryin' out loud, don't read this, okay?

Also, I disclaim any ownership to these characters or the world in which they roam – DC wouldn't let them have this much fun.

**A/N:** First of all, this hasn't really been beta'd. I've had some people read it, like **_GuardianKysra, MsLessa,_** and several people have read it through the **_30Lemon_** lj community for plot and such, but nothing for grammar or spelling or anything like that. It took me so long to post this sucker, I just couldn't look at it again. Maybe after I post it, I'll find some corrections that need to be done or something, but I just can't look at it now.

Secondly, YES, I did change the name of this fic. It used to be "Feeling Love" but I never really liked that one.

Thirdly, I'm also going to post it on adultfanfiction (dot) net where I have posted the entirety of the first chapter and on my livejournal 'emsscraps'.

Finally, I've decided what I want this story to be about, and YES, they are going to be related directly to one another. This one relates directly to the first chapter, I'm just not doing the themes in order.

**Thanks:** To everyone who stuck with me and reviewed the last chapter, my first foray into the lemon arena. I know some of you weren't able to find the fic neither on my emsscraps, aff, nor on the lemons website, so I'll be linking you guys directly to it when I reply to you. I'll be answering reviews one on one through review response if you asked something or I have something to say. Otherwise, thank you all very very much.

**Spoiler:** I'm pretty sure the next theme I'm going to tackle (however long THAT takes me) is going to be #19: The Gymnasium.

_**Just A Game  
**__**Chapter 2: Flying High  
**__**by Emania  
**__**Theme #27: The Mile-High Club**_

"_Baby did a bad, bad, thing..."  
_- Baby Did A Bad, Bad, Thing, Chris Isaac

There was a kind of false silence in planes at a certain hour of the night, Robin thought idly. Commercial flights, private jets, even their own T-Plane. False because there was noise – the faint blip of the radar, the distant hum of the engines – and yet all these sounds were, in some way, quiet as well.

Normally, whenever they flew somewhere on the T-Plane there was a cacophony of noise: talking, fighting, even occasionally music, there was planning or teasing, conference calls and sometimes simple idle word games of the kind children play on long road trips.

Late at night, however, it was different. They weren't all needed to fly the ship when they were joined. Actually, no one was needed to fly the ship when they were joined and they were on autopilot, as was their custom whenever they were returning from a tiring mission. So, considering they had had a total of about 4 hours give or take a couple of minutes in the last 36, he had told his team to get some much needed sleep.

He didn't have to stay awake either, but autopilot didn't work well with emergencies and someone always stayed awake. He didn't mind doing it. Actually, he usually felt better being the one to do it. He trusted his team, but he trusted himself better. Plus, if someone had to stay awake and not sleep when they were all tired, he preferred for it to be himself.

He didn't mind the silence or the stillness either. He didn't feel the need to fill the silence with music or conversation. He didn't even need to read or watch television or something to keep himself awake. Most of the time, he was content to sit in silence with his own thoughts. That didn't mean he always let his thoughts float about randomly inside his head. He knew better than that. He didn't meditate the way Raven did either, but he did like to sit in silence and contemplate events: either recent events such as the fight the Titans had just engaged in with another random enemy less than 5 hours prior or not so recent events such as conversations or interactions between himself and others.

One of his favorite memories to relive, at least recently, was the movie he had taken Raven to see less than a month before. He still couldn't believe her reaction, but it had happened. Despite the fact she hadn't mentioned it or anything regarding it since she had left him in his room. It _had_ happened and he had the dry-cleaning bill to prove it.

So she didn't want to talk about it, that was fine. He could wait. She _had_ promised him she'd get back at him for the movie and he was looking forward to it.

Which was why, lately, his pulse always jumped in anticipation whenever he found himself alone with Raven. It was also why when he felt the faint shift in the air of his ship cabin – the almost imperceptible change in the air that tended to raise the hairs on the back of his neck and that he had taken to recognizing preceded the use of magic in his vicinity – he felt his pulse race even before the smell of lavender and vanilla filled his senses. He was not surprised and he was not alarmed, although he was carefully expectant when he turned in his chair.

When he saw her standing a foot behind him, casually leaning against the special polymerized metal of the pod, he wondered whether or not he'd always feel as if he'd forgotten how to breathe every time he saw her.

He was glad she couldn't see his eyes. "You're supposed to be sleeping," he said with a smile.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked.

He answered without hesitation, "No." He wondered at the seriousness on her features. "Is something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

She didn't even try to hide the smile from him. "I was meditating," she began, approaching him, "and a thought occurred to me, a question, really, that I couldn't answer and that wouldn't leave me be."

"What question is that?"

She was close enough now to look over his shoulder at the console, "Why do you always stay awake even while we're on auto pilot?"

He raised a brow, "Is that the question?" he asked.

She raised a brow as if to mimic him or maybe as if to ask if he really believed that would be her question and he grinned.

"Auto pilot is no good if there's an emergency," he answered.

"Cyborg would not like that you question the T-Plane's response capabilities."

He chuckled, "No offense to Cyborg intended," he allowed. She was looking around her at the pod which wasn't really much bigger than any of the others. "So, what's the question?" he prodded.

"There really isn't much room in these is there?"

Somehow, he knew that wasn't the question either. "Enough."

She looked at him over her shoulder and there was something in her eyes that had the smile sliding off his face. And even though he didn't immediately recognize it, if the spike in his pulse was any indication, his body did.

"I suppose it depends on the activity you have in mind," she answered calmly.

"Why do I get the impression you just might have some such activity in mind?"

She smiled slyly and nodded slowly, completely in control. "I just might."

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asked, in an effort to gain some semblance of control over the conversation. "It'll be daylight when we reach Jump and who knows when we'll get to sleep again."

She closed the short distance between them and stood next to him, her attention focused intently on the control console. He turned the chair so he could see what had caught her attention.

"You're not going to sleep, are you?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and it wasn't until then that he realized she had leaned down and her face was perfectly eye level with his, "I'm not sleepy." She leaned back and turned her face to stare at him fully, "But if I'm keeping you up..."

He reached out and clasped her hand before she could slip it off the arm rests of his chair. "I'm not going to sleep."

She smiled slowly at him, like the cat that ate the canary. "Good."

His heart was beating the way it always did when he expected a good fight or when he was on the trail of a clever puzzle. He couldn't help but smile. "So what was your question?" he asked.

She turned back to the console, leaning once again on his arm rest, so close to him he could feel the heat from her skin press against him. She reached her hand out and let her fingers hover over the console, while she was apparently searching for something.

"What are you looking for?" he asked curiously.

"Ah," she said, and he watched as her fingers nimbly flicked the switch that took them off auto pilot.

He reacted immediately grabbing the wheel and thanks to his quick thinking, the ship jerked only minimally. "Why'd you do that for?" he asked, reaching out to flip the switch back.

His fingers never reached the switch however, because suddenly her hand was on his hand, her fingers curling around his. The contact stilled him immediately and it took him a moment to realize he was still flying the ship. She pulled his hand back from the switch and their eyes met again, alarmingly close.

"Don't you want to help me answer my question, Robin?" she asked, close to a whisper since they were so close anything above a whisper would be considered shouting.

"I..." he trailed off and cleared his throat for a moment. "Am I to assume your question deals with the auto-pilot feature?" he asked.

Gently, she pulled his hand even further back out of reach of the steering gears his left hand was still holding steady. In what seemed to be one smooth movement, she had shifted herself so she was facing him. "In a manner of speaking," she answered his question, without really answering his question. She held his hand around her waist, just shy of actually touching her.

Before he could speak again, to ask her what she was doing or what the question might be once again, Raven had pushed him back just slightly from the console and stepped into the frame of his legs so that she was standing between him and the console, her left hand still holding on to his right. When his left hand started to slip away from the steering mechanism, she reached back and held it in place, tsking chidingly.

"Now, now, Robin," she rebuked gently, "You must keep your hands on the wheel..." she trailed off to place his right hand on the other side of the wheel, effectively locking herself inside the cage of his arms above her waist and his legs below it. "If you remove them, well," she let her hands trail away from his, hot wherever they touched him even through the material of his uniform. She stopped when her hands were resting on his chest and shrugged, "I'll have an answer to my question then, but we won't have much fun in the finding of it, don't you think?"

Robin swallowed, hard, his hands flexing and gripping the cold metal of the steering wheel. It occurred to Robin as he felt her hands travel down the muscles at his chest and further still to rest for a moment on his abs that Raven _definitely_ had something in mind.

And although he might have to work just a little harder at present to focus enough to figure stuff out, he understood her meaning loud and clear. The minute he let go of that steering wheel, her little exploration stopped.

He wasn't certain he wanted it to stop.

So, he held on and he waited. But the further south those hot little hands traveled, the harder it was to keep his grip on the metal instead of reaching out for the body that was so close.

"So," he spoke, but her nimble fingers became enthralled by the edges of the "R" patch just above his heart and he had to clear his throat to keep his voice even. Such an innocent touch and he couldn't help thinking how his heart raced as if urged into greater expediency by the presence of her fingers.

"Did you do that on purpose?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"Do what?" he questioned, his eyes focused on the sky beyond the glass shielding. '_Maybe if I don't look at her, I can keep better control?'_ he wondered.

"Put your crest right above your heart."

He glanced at her, but when it almost felt as if she were caressing him rather than simply feeling the contours of the patch, he hurriedly looked back to the sky. "I didn't want to put a crest on at all," he admitted. "But if I was to display it," he continued, "I figured that would be the place."

"In old times," she began conversationally, as if every slight move, every shift to become more comfortable didn't rub her bare legs against his, didn't get her warmth closer to him. "People kept things they held dear close to their hearts," she looked up at him, "Hence, the breast pocket in suits."

He didn't know quite what to answer to such a thing. "It's just a letter."

Her hand went flat against the R and her eyes closed and his own gaze was lost on her pensive expression. "I can feel it beating underneath my hand," she whispered.

So enthralled was he by the look on her face and the feel of her palm against him right over his heart, that it took him a moment to realize that her other hand had continued to move, continued to explore, until it was at the juncture of the top and bottoms of his uniform.

He didn't remember that she knew just _how_ to put on _and_ remove his uniform until the clever fingers of her left hand found the flesh of his abdomen underneath the uniform top. At the sudden feel of her pressed against his bare flesh, he jumped.

Her eyes opened and what she saw there must have pleased her, for she smiled, slowly. Her right hand still over his heart, her left began to trace small circles on his flesh, as if exploring the feel of flesh for the first time. "Most people overlook the importance of touch," she said, still in that conversational tone as if she couldn't feel the way his legs had subconsciously pressed against her outer thighs, as if afraid that if he didn't, she might disappear.

His hands convulsed around the hard, cold metal of the steering mechanism and his ab muscles reacted to her touch seemingly without conscious command from his brain. Which had all but shut down despite the fact Raven was apparently trying to have a rather deep discussion with him about the benefits of the body's five senses.

"I'm starting to see it's--" Robin's breath left him as Raven's hand dipped around from his abs to explore his side, her fingers just lightly skimming the waistband of his pants. "--benefits," he finished on an exhale.

He felt her humor, actually felt it, like a wave crashing over him and he smiled and had to actually glance at her to make certain he wasn't just making it up. When he saw the gleam in her eye, he knew he hadn't.

Her fingers found the raised edges of a knife scar he had along his left side and the humor left her like a sigh. She grew serious and her attention zeroed in on her hand where it had disappeared under his top. She removed her right hand from over his heart and used it to raise the top to reveal where her hand had been exploring. Her eyes focused on the slightly discolored flesh and she almost pouted. Her fingers were still feeling the raised line, and her gentleness and insistence raised goosebumps. He barely repressed the need to shiver under her touch. He glanced at her and the look of empathic sympathy on her features nearly undid him.

"Before the Titans," he answered. "I was stupid and let my guard down, the punk swiped at me first and nicked me before I could get out of the way."

She did something so surprising then, that the T-Plane swerved in response to his jerking the steering mechanism too hard: she lowered her head and pressed her lips against the scar.

"Dude! What was that?" Beast Boy's sleepy voice came over the com link. Robin froze and Raven raised her head to look at him, waiting.

"What the hell happened?" Cyborg asked as well.

"Are we under attack?" Starfire questioned.

Robin raised an eyebrow to Raven and looked meaningfully at the com switch on the console. She smirked at him and turned around, still in the circle of his arms and flicked the com line open.

"Everything's fine," Robin answered, hoping his voice sounded as steady as he was trying to make it. "Miscalculation on my part, that's all. Go back to sleep team."

Raven, he realized as he turned off the com link, was chuckling. "I think it's time I tell you what my question is," she said, starting to shift and move.

For a moment, he considered making some intelligent comment about her question, but then she shifted her left leg over his right so that she was effectually straddling it. Her hands climbed higher on his chest soft and hot against his sensitized skin, pushing his uniform top further to give her better access. She stopped when one hand was right over his erratically beating heart, the other parallel and using the position to brace herself, she leaned forward, so close to his face he thought she was going to kiss him and couldn't help but look at her, eyes going wide under his mask.

She smiled at him, "Ah-ah, Boy Wonder...eyes on the road."

His gaze went back to the view of sky before him, but flicked back at her enough to make her chuckle. She didn't kiss him, though, didn't even get close enough for him to hope to steal a kiss. Instead, she used that leverage to raise her right leg and slide it over his left. And just like that, she was leaning against his chest, with her legs on either side of his, inside the circle of his arms. And then, as if that weren't enough, she sat.

He had never really realized how very scantily clad her ass was until it was pressed against his lap.

"Raven, what-?" he gasped as she stopped his words with the press of her lips against his. Instinctively, his left hand went for the back of her head, but she pulled away before he could even begin to enjoy the moment.

"Hands on the wheel, Boy Wonder," she reminded him, her hands still exploring the flesh of his chest and abs. "And eyes on the road or we'll have to end this little exploration."

He kept his hand in her hair and his eyes on her, "What are you doing to me, Raven?" he whispered.

There was a moment when he almost thought he saw a smile flick across her expression, but then her head ducked and she shifted closer against him and he had to use both hands on the wheel to keep the T-Plane from going into a tailspin. Close enough now, she leaned forward until her breasts were pressed against his chest and her cheek grazed his, her lips so close to his ear. "Whatever I want to," she whispered. She pulled back, letting her cheek rub more fully against his, "For however long you let me."

He didn't groan, but just barely, exhaling a very controlled breath instead. He did have to blink a few times to keep his eyesight focused on the black nothingness outside. "What—" her lips found a patch of skin just where his jaw line started that seemed to fascinate her and he had to stop talking in order to swallow. Hard. He cleared his throat and attempted to continue once she moved down to his throat, "--do you have in mind?"

Hands on either side of his head, leaning heavily on the back of his chair, she shifted and suddenly, he knew there was no way she could miss exactly how happy he was to be in the current situation. She sat high on his lap, looking at the whites of his mask. "Seems you _already_ have _something_ in mind."

He felt the blush crawl up the sides of his face and settle high on his cheekbones, and surprisingly, he only felt himself getting even more excited by the knowledge that there was no way he could do anything about how much of him was pressing against that scantily clad ass with her weight on him and without the use of his hands.

It took him longer than normal to think under the circumstances – after all, it wasn't every day he had Raven essentially giving him a much more intimate version of a lap dance. _'Hell,'_ he thought as she slid lower against his body, her mouth seeking out the skin of his neck just shy of his Adam's apple, _'forget think, it was a miracle he could remember how to breathe.' _

Despite the intimacy of the moment, and the things they had already done and said, he still found himself blushing when he answered, "Let me take my hands off this wheel and I'll show you _exactly_ what I have in mind."

She shifted a little, almost absently rubbing against his very awake body, her hands pressing against his shoulders as she seemingly sought out her balance. "Don't you want to know what my question is, Robin?" she wondered, her voice low and intimate.

He gripped at the wheel in an effort to not reach out to hold her exactly where he wanted her as she raised the weight off his legs again and the touch of her was gone. "No," he answered, and although his eyes remained on the sky they were navigating through, every nerve in his body was perfectly attuned to each part of her and where it was touching him or how close it might be to touching him. "I don't really care about your question right now."

She chuckled and her hands were suddenly caressing his face, "So honest," she said humorously. When she drew her hands away, and her weight shifted again, his eyes flicked to her, only to see her attention drawn by the flesh of his abdomen she had left uncovered from her previous explorations. The look he saw in her eyes made him smile even while the need below his waist grew ever heavier.

"I didn't think you could doubt my interest after last month's movie," he chanced to tease.

"Ah, the movie..." she said softly, her breath ghosting across his chest, her legs lowering the rest of her body close enough so he could feel the heat and he had to resist not to strain upward and close that distance. "Which brings me back to my question."

"I don't --" he started, but then she practically slid up his body and it stole his breath away, so that when she pressed her lips to his he inhaled hers. He put everything into that kiss as the only contact he could control. It was hard to keep his eyes open and on the window instead of surrendering completely to the kiss, and doubly hard to keep his hands on the wheel instead of digging them into her hair, making certain she couldn't pull away, but all of it was child's play compared to the strength of will it took to keep his hips from bucking upward against her instinctively as she fought him for dominance of the kiss.

When she finally tore her mouth away, he was more than a little pleased to see that she had to grip the sides of the chair on either side of his head to steady herself and that the strength of her legs pressing against either side of his thighs trembled a little as her gasps for breath paralleled his own. He was starting to get the hang of this game, he thought with a smile.

"What's your question, Raven?" he asked, still breathless, his eyes going to hers helplessly.

She let herself down back to sit, only this time, her inner thighs came down on the other side of his hips, and as her hands started to trail down from his shoulders to his chest and further down, not slow and exploring anymore, more like with a purpose, his breath caught all over again. "You made me think of it," she said, her tone entirely conversational as her hands stopped just shy of his waist, her fingers finding the edge of the scar she asked about, trailing it almost absently. "You said you had excellent control, the night of the movie, do you remember?"

He met her eyes briefly, "I do." Whether he was affirming his boast about his control or merely commenting on his memory, neither of them questioned.

Her hands trailed another few inches south, her body leaning forward, as if seeking a comfortable balance. "You made it seem as if something about my release broke that control," she continued.

"I did," he kept his answer clipped in the hopes of preventing her from figuring out how tight his throat had gone in expectation or how hard it was for him to concentrate on the conversation instead of wondering what her hands were going to do next.

But then she surprised him by shifting her seat further up his legs instead of moving her hands, so that he felt the warmth of her pressed against the almost painfully sensitive flesh of his body. She seemed to wait a moment, as if for him to appreciate the feel of her against him before leaning forward, almost as if she were reaching across his body and there was absolutely no mistake in the dampness he felt against him along with the heat and the realization that she was as excited as he was would have brought him right then and there if he hadn't already been so conscious of his control. Even so, he jerked with the contact and the T-Jet shifted a little to the right.

"I'm not releasing my power now, _Dick_," she said, her breath warming the still exposed flesh of his stomach. "I'm not using anything except my body." He glanced down at her and nearly groaned at the sight of her. "How's your control holding up, now?" she asked brashly.

He smirked at her, "I think you'll have to take those clever little hands on a bit of a further exploration to find that out, Raven," he answered, his hands gripping the wheel so hard he knew they'd ache in the morning.

"You mean like this?" she asked, her hands trailing below his waist to flit down over his hips.

"Yes," he exhaled.

"And like this?" she asked, as her hands trailed back up, dipping beneath the waistband of his pants.

"Almost," he answered, half on a gasp, his eyes still open and facing the screen, although his sight was slightly blurred and he was fighting very hard against closing them.

She shifted her hips up and then back down, almost absently, almost as if feeling him out with her body and he couldn't bite back the groan when she did it again, coupled by the feel of her hands pushing the waistband of his pants further down his hips to reach more of him.

"Hmmm," she said, her face dipping toward his chest, her nose bumping the sensitized skin along his ribs, the way a cat might mark its scent. "I think---" she said and her voice tickled the tiny hairs on his body, "maybe like this?" she asked, and stood suddenly, her hands no longer touching him, and the incredibly enticing warmth against him was gone. He snapped to complete attention, his eyes flitting to her immediately with enough time to catch her starting to shift her weight to move away from him entirely.

His reaction was immediate and instinctual. "Oh, I don't think so," he nearly growled, his hands coming off the wheel, flicking on the autopilot switch automatically before taking hold of her shoulders and bringing her back down against him, all in one seemlessly smooth motion which caught Raven entirely by surprise. Before she could recover, he raised one hand to tangle in her hair and hold her head in place and raised halfway up the chair to meet her lips and steel her kiss. Surprisingly, she surrendered to his seering demand, not fighting him for the least bit of dominance, only passively enjoying the feel of his hands gripping her against him possessively while his lips and tongue ravished her mouth. But when his hand started to move to the very part of her she had been teasing him with, she broke the kiss, pushing against his chest carving space between them enough for her to look into his eyes. He caught a flash of surprise and passion there, the kind he had only ever seen when she was overwhelmed with the lust of over a dozen people, but before he could do more than merely recognize the look, there was the sudden press of magic, and she was gone, leaving his arms bereft and his body cold.

He felt her still in the room and turned to find her standing near the door, her hair mussed, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright – as if she had some sort of fever, but there was triumph in those eyes, as well. "Who's got control now?" she said, her voice still slightly breathless, the desire like a palpable thing between them. He started to stand and she disappeared entirely.

He smirked and stood up, but before he could take a single step toward her, she disappeared entirely.

"I guess I have my answer now," she said over the pod to pod communication from her own pod.

Robin opened his line and tsked, "Disappearing in the middle of the conversation?" Robin asked chidingly. "That's not very sportsmanlike," he sat down and tried not to think about being uncomfortable. "Actually, I'd say that it's actually cheating, Raven."

"How so?" she questioned. "I laid out the groundrules from the beginning." He could almost see her shrug in her tone.

"Afraid?" he prodded.

"Me?" she questioned, the disbelief there as a recognizable undertone to her monotone, at least to him. "If you'd have had better control, who knows how far I'd have had to go to get an answer to my question."

"So, it's my fault?" he asked, chuckling despite himself.

She was silent and he could just imagine the way the thoughts of possible answers were flickering across her features. "I wouldn't say anyone was at fault," she said finally. "It was an experiment, and I have my answer, so I would say it was successful."

He shook his head. "Yeah, for you, maybe."

"Well..." she seemed to hesitate for a moment. "When we get back to Jump you could always go back to your favorite movie theatre."

"Yes," he brought his voice down low, shifting in the chair, "Yes, _we_ can."

She didn't miss the shift in nouns, and he didn't think she would. "I never said I'd come along."

"Fine," he conceded, "But remember: you won't be in a pod where I can't get at forever, Raven," he promised.

The line was silent for a moment and then, "Is that a promise?" she asked, and although there was a hint of humor tinging her tone, it was mostly something _other_ but which he was starting to recognize, regardless. Something that made him even more uncomfortable in his own uniform than he already was.

"Oh, count on it," he answered.

In the seclusion and privacy of her own pod, Raven shivered at the determination of his tone and thought that perhaps, just perhaps, she had woken up something more than she might be ready to handle.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Later, after they arrived and were unloading the T-Plane, Cyborg couldn't help but look at the wired, haggard appearance of his teammate and leader.

"Robin, man, you didn't get any sleep, did you?" Cyborg asked.

"No, couldn't," Robin answered, glancing only in what might have been described as dangerously at Raven. If anyone had caught it, of course.

"I understand your whole issue with the auto-pilot, but dude, really...I still think you need to consider giving it a chance, you know?"

Robin exhaled as he slung his pack over his shoulder, "Yeah, I think I'm starting to see the benefits of auto-pilot, actually," he admitted, walking away.

Cyborg was about to question his leader about the comment when a short bark of laughter from Raven's direction stopped him with it's strangeness. By the time Cyborg found her eyes, however, Raven was her normal monotonous self and didn't even appear to realize Cyborg was staring at her. "Weird..." Cyborg mumbled under his breath.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

**A/N:** So, what'd you guys think? Hot? Boring? What?

**Playlist:** Once again, song was very important in motivating this and getting me passed my standard prudishness and helping motivate me to write the more explicit, (hopefully) sexy bits of this. So, a sampling:

1. Temptation, Diana Krall  
2. I Know, Fiona Apple  
3. Mine, Savage Garden  
4. Baby Did A Bad, Bad, Thing, Chris Isaac  
5. Slippage, Goldfrapp  
6. Stripped, Depeche Mode  
7. Querer, Cirque du Soleil  
8. Freak on a Leash, Korn  
9. When Doves Cry, (remake from Baz Lehrman's Romeo & Juliet)  
10. Prelude 12/21, AFI  
11. Animals, Nickelback


	3. The Closet

**A/N: **So, let me start out by saying that I don't think this one is particularly good. I've had it done for a while and I kept thinking that I might go back to it and see if I liked it better or if I figured out what I could do to make it better, but honestly, nothing came to me, and I lost patience with it.

Don't get me wrong: I don't think it's really bad or anything -- I just don't think it's particularly hot. ::shrug:: Oh well. Can't win 'em all, I guess.

I should also state that to my recollection (which can be dodgy at times, so forgive me if it isn't true), I was the only beta on this puppy...so, blame no one but me for it's suckiness and utter lack of grammar.

**Thanks:** I'm really glad you guys liked the last one of these I did and I'm so thankful to those of you still reading despite the incredibly LONG update times. I'll respond individually if I've got something to say or a question to answer through review response.

_**Just A Game  
Chapter 3: Closeted  
by Emania  
Theme # 3: The Closet**_

_"Well, you got me where you want me, now / baby, what you want me to do?"_  
– Baby, What You Want Me To Do, Etta James

She started to turn as soon as she felt his presence behind her, but he was quicker than she was, and with a firm palm on the small of her back and a gentle nudge, she stumbled inside and felt the door close, blocking out the hallway light. She pushed the coats to either side of her, turning to face the door, kicking a jacket loose from her left foot and looked up to where she could feel his presence against the door leading outside.

She wasn't afraid, but her heart sped up just the same. She realized he could probably see her easier than she could see him, if not for the way her eyes tended to shine more than an average human in the dark, then because the little slivers of light coming from under the door and in the very small cracks on either side of it served to illuminate her shape, if not the particulars.

It didn't take her long to adjust to the dark, however, and before long she could see the outline of his broad shoulders, the shape of his head. She waited for him to speak first. This was his doing, after all.

"You're not an easy girl to corner, you know," he said into the darkness, his voice was calm.

"I wasn't exactly hiding," she countered. His shape moved, and there were suddenly two feet less of space between her and his warmth. She felt a smile curve her lips and wondered if he could see it. "Well?" she prodded.

"Well, what?" he asked, his voice low.

She thought for a moment -- thought about how she wanted to play this part of the game, thought about how much she was willing to push him and how she wanted to do it. Finally deciding, she shifted the weight onto her left hip, tilted her head in a way that should allow him to catch the left edge of her lips. "It seems as though you've got me where you want me," she said, her own voice growing lower. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Funny you should ask," he said, and he was walking toward her, carving through even more of the distance, and her heartbeat jumped and she took a step back, bumping very quickly against the wall. She felt more than saw his arms stretch out on either side of her, bracing against the wall and suddenly, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her, his breath against her neck and then his lips, just ghosting against the skin of her jaw, then her neck.

"Funny," she spoke, pausing to swallow and provide some moisture for her suddenly dry mouth, "how?" she asked.

"Oh," he said and his tone was nonchalant, even if his voice wasn't. "Only in that I've had a few thoughts on the subject," and she knew where he was only because of the breath of his words. He was so close now, she could feel the press of his t-shirt against her chest, the light cotton/lyrcra blend of her t-shirt doing little to insulate her skin against the heat of his.

She fisted her hands around the coats on either side of her to keep from reaching out to him. She was under no misconceptions about what this was. He had promised that he'd get back at her for the night on the T-Ship, and she knew he was about to do his utmost to make her give in and show how much she wanted him to kiss her.

And she did. Very much. But she wasn't about to show it. That wasn't part of the game.

"What's the matter Raven?" he asked, and his face was burrowing in her hair, his cheek skimming the outer shell of her ear, his hands still pressed against the wall behind her, locking her in place. "Don't you have anything to say?"

She licked her lips and swallowed. "I'm waiting on you, Robin," she answered, her voice managing to sound just slightly above a whisper.

He chuckled and she felt his lips brush her temple. "Are you?" he asked and then his hands moved and they were traveling down her bare arms, finding her hands still fisted against the coats. "Won't you touch me?" he whispered against her ear, his hands gently massaging her hands open. She responded to his touch, she didn't really think she'd do otherwise, and when their fingers entwined, she was holding onto him as tightly as she had been holding onto the coats.

It occurred to her that he'd asked her a question, but she couldn't answer -- she was too preoccupied by the seemingly random and entirely maddening path of his lips. It seemed to her that he was kissing her everywhere he could reach except her lips, and she knew if she allowed her throat to form sound, it wouldn't be words at all, but something entirely different.

"You didn't have a problem touching me two weeks ago on the T-Plane."

His mouth no longer torturing her with soft, warm caresses, she tilted her chin up to look at him. "Are you complaining?" she asked, and if he had any doubts as to his effect on her, the throaty sound of her voice should have eased them away.

He chuckled and his face stopped with his lips right over the pulse point at her throat -- she could feel it as he breathed, the warmth of his aura licking hers -- and she felt the soft silken brush of them on her skin preceding his breath. "My only complaint about that night is that you stopped," he whispered against her throat. He pulled away from her enough so she could smell the mint on his breath from when he brushed his teeth after dinner, and although her eyes had accustomed to the dark, she could still see no more than shapes, the occasional flutter of a shadow as he blinked or the push of the ventilation system running through strands of his hair. "How about you?"

She didn't answer, but he could feel the way she gripped his hands; could feel the way her heart beat throbbed like a living ache beneath her skin, undulating wherever he'd been.

"Well, I'm going to touch you," he promised, pushing her hands against her own hips, and trailing them up against her body, continuing to raise them above her head, pressing them against the smooth wooden bar the coats hung on, wrapping her fingers around the bar, all while his lips explored the curve of her neck, the apple of her cheek, her eyelids, and although her hands remained gripping the bar, her lips betrayed her and pushed upward in an attempt to capture his when they touched hers briefly, but he moved on and she was left pressing toward him instead.

Then his fingers were touching her wrists, dancing ever so sensuously over the inside of her forearm, the pads of his fingers barely grazing skin suddenly sensitized to the point that the press of his aura preceding his touch raised gooseflesh as they traveled down her arms, grazing the sides of her breasts and traveling lower, low enough to grip her waist and bring her close against him, pressing her breasts against his chest as his lips finally found her mouth.

She could feel the press of his fingers even through her jeans, and her hands had started to slip from the bar as she gave in to the insistence of his mouth and tongue, before his hands were suddenly touching the skin of the small of her back against him, her hands grabbing tight to the bar in an effort to remain standing.

It felt as if he were trying to memorize her body through the pads of his fingers and the dip of his palm alone and she realized in some still thinking part of her mind that she had never felt anything like it before.

People, she knew, didn't actively touch her. Some, like Starfire for example, would hug her, or like Cyborg would ruffle her hair or put an arm around her shoulders, but no one of her acquaintance had ever made it their sole purpose to trigger each of the nerve endings running just under every inch of her skin the way it seemed Robin was thoroughly determined to do.

"Robin," she breathed, hardly loud enough for anyone to hear her, but somehow, he did.

He raised his head to look at her, "Yes, Raven?"

"What are you doing?" she managed to ask.

He laughed, and the feel of it carried through her chest, warming her. "Turnabout's fair play, Raven," he said against her skin.

She had enough time to consider that although she had guessed he would plan some sort of retribution for her little experiment on the plane, she hadn't thought he'd do anything quite like this. Then Robin's fingers grazed the spot just between her shoulder blades and she felt the bolt of awareness disburse like starburst through her body, thoroughly scattering the slight twinge of worry about just what she might have provoked. Her mouth tore from his with a gasp and she almost pulled away from him entirely, or would have if her mind had been in control, but it wasn't, and her traitorous body arched toward him instead.

"Well, isn't this interesting," he drawled as his fingers drawing patters against her bare shoulder blades. She practically hissed at the hot touch of his fingers on her rarely touched skin.

She couldn't speak, too overwhelmed by touch and warmth and when her fingers began slipping from the bar above their heads, it was all she could do to grip it all the tighter. The nail of his thumbs lightly grazed the seldom exposed skin along her ribs. Her head leaned forward, catching on his shoulder.

His arms wrapped around her back, holding her close for a moment, and the act was surprisingly more intimate than anything they'd done thus far. She felt a heartbeat, rapid against her chest, and wasn't sure if it was his or hers. "Touch me, Raven," he whispered against her neck.

She swallowed, catching her breath enough to speak. "Make me."

He stopped, pulling back away from her, their eyes meeting unerringly, despite the darkness. "Are you sure about that?"

She smiled because he probably couldn't see it in the darkness. "If you can." She raised a brow. "There's no throng of horny people to influence me _now_."

"I'm going to make you want me, Raven," he promised, his tone slightly taunting and entirely amused, his hands trailing higher, necessarily raising the t-shirt, exposing stomach, abs, flawless skin as he did. His face nuzzled the curve of her shoulder. "I'm going to make you want me so bad you throw your pride out the window."

Raven started to speak, but his hands slid to her front, easily spanning over her abs, grazing under her breasts, trailing down the center of her torso, dipping only momentarily into her bellybutton. Her knees gave out too quickly for her to brace herself, and she had to tighten her hands on the bar to keep from falling.

He gripped her waist and laughed, the sound of it sounding strangely intimate in the dark confines of the hallway coat closet. Spurred by his delighted laughter at her obvious reaction to his touch, she spoke before thinking.

"Are you sure you can?" she replied to his earlier comment.

He raised one hand to cup her cheek, leaning in close enough to kiss her, close enough so she couldn't help but see the shadows of his face, the glint in his eye from the sliver of light behind him. "Remember," he said, his voice low and his breath teasing her lips, still wet with his kiss. "You asked for it this time."

She wanted to answer, thought of something witty and sharp, but then his lips were on hers, coaxing, gentler than they'd ever been as they oh so softly brushed against hers, pulling back when he felt her try to rush it. He smirked at her and her eyes must have grown accustomed to the dark because she saw it, caught the lift of his lips, the way his eyes mirrored the emotion and she was caught as fully by this as she had been by the touch of his tongue when it had danced with hers.

When his hands dipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, she wished she had looked away, that she hadn't let herself get caught up in his stare or that she would've had the sense to look away before he could see the way her eyes had opened wide, the surprise and even the lust she was sure he'd be able to read, even despite the dark.

But that soft laughter as his hands traced the waistband of her jeans let her know he had seen every single ounce of her desire and the thought distracted her even as he found the button fly of her jeans. He had three buttons undone before she realized it, and only then because his knuckles brushed against her lower abdomen and she felt the shock of sensation even through her sensible powder blue bikini briefs. Her breathing hitched, her heart racing.

Oh, she remembered this. She well remembered what his nimble, lithe fingers could do to her. The sensory memory alone sent a wave of pleasure through her she only half fought to keep from showing.

But this was not a semi-crowded theatre in public where, despite the privacy required by the patrons due to the nature of the show, still demanded a certain level of restraint lest they be discovered. No, this was a very private, secluded closet in an uninhabited Tower, and Robin was under no obligation to be temperate or to exercise moderation. Consequently, his fingers found her center, easily slipping between the wet folds before she had a chance to acclimate to his touch. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, but couldn't help but groan when his fingers _moved_.

And, because it was precisely his intent to keep her off balance and unable to become used to the sensations, he used his free hand to wrap around her back and hold her in place as his mouth lowered onto the taut peak of her left nipple. She gasped at the feel of his tongue on her sensitized body, even through the shirt she still wore, and almost let her hands slip from the bar, managing to catch herself and hold on because his thumb found the bundle of very sensitized nerves and flicked it, making her knees lose strength and the bar her hands were gripping was suddenly the only thing keeping her upright.

When he flicked it again, her head lolled backwards and she meant to speak -- to say what, she didn't know -- but the only sound that came was something between a moan and a whimper.

"What was that, Rae?" he spoke, his fingers stilling and his head rising to look at her.

She was breathing hard and what should have been a reprieve from his torturous touch only served to prove to her how very much she didn't want him to stop. But to win this round, some part of her understood she had to either remain silent or say something unaffected. Although, for the life of her, she couldn't think what. She must have made some noise, however, because he moved, bringing her close, supporting her head with his left hand, raising it up so she could look at him.

"You taste so good, Rae, even through the shirt," he smiled as an idea came to him. "I wonder what you taste like elsewhere?" he asked, raising a brow as his right hand slipped from the warm place still throbbing for completion.

"Robin!" she gasped as he caressed her even while he removed his hand.

"Raven?" he asked, looking at her. "Do you have something to say?" and although his tone was teasing, there was an edge to it, a need she could feel just as keenly as her own pressing against her.

And when she realized that she very much wanted to take his face into her hands, to bring him close to her and kiss him, to use her own hands to touch the muscled chest she knew lay underneath the gray polo shirt and explore inside his jeans with as much alacrity as he had explored inside hers, to use them to somehow convince him to finish what he'd started, it didn't sting her pride as much as she had thought it would. Turnabout, as he had said, _was_ fair play after all.

She released her grip on the bars, feeling her weight shift so she was more balanced on the balls of her feet and started to loosen her hands when she felt it, the breeze of approach through her heightened aura. She looked at him with regret and at least a small bit of wry amusement. "Yes, I do," she confessed.

He caught the look on her face, noted the difference, but grinned anyway when she brought her hands to his face, about to crow about her surrender, but she cut him off this time by bringing her lips to his.

She broke the kiss before his hands could do any more exploring and pulled away from him entirely, placing her hands (which would be numbing from the lack of blood flow if it weren't for her extraordinary healing abilities) on his chest. "They're home."

"What?" he asked, surprise flowing through the desire. "They're _home_? As in, _here_?"

She nodded and buttoned up her pants, straightening her shirt as she looked at him, wondering how he'd act now that the haze of surreality was leaving them. She ran her fingers through her hair and in two quick swipes it was fixed, and since she hadn't touched him, she knew he had nothing to worry about even if they were still in the dark.

He was suddenly in front of her again, his hands on her shoulders and his face so close to hers she could feel his breath on her lips. "This isn't over, Rae," he told her, his voice deep and full of meaning.

She smiled, raised one of her hands to touch his face and felt something flip in her stomach and trip down her spine to the part of her he'd been so intimately aquatinted with tonight. "I hope not," she answered, her own voice thick with a promise of her own.

"Then why not finish this now, upstairs?" he asked.

She had moved around him, but stopped at the door. "What fun would that be?" she asked and as she opened the door and let in the hallway light, he could see the grin on her swollen, thoroughly kissed lips and the wet spot just over each of her breasts. He couldn't answer her, because he was suddenly overwhelmed by just what she looked like, standing in the light, all the little signs of his attentions to her in the closet plain to the eye. "Better hurry," she said. "I hear them in the garage," she answered before slipping out the door and out of sight.

In the light from the still open doorway, Robin looked around the closet for signs of their encounter and, finding none, stepped outside hoping he wouldn't come across any of the others before he'd had a chance to take care of the only sign of the time they'd spent together she had left him with. As he took the stairs two at a time, he had the distinct feeling the ante had been upped tonight and was supremely glad he had taken the opportunity when he'd seen her leaning into the closet. No, he might not know exactly what the rules of this game they were playing might be, or what the parameters were, but as close as he'd come to tasting victory tonight, he wasn't about to give it up.

_xxxxxxx_

**A/N:** So? Whaddya think? I'm very "eh" about it, although when I started it, I had been very excited. :le sigh:


End file.
